Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
Michael Feinstein
I have always had a problem with time
I could swear you said "forever and a day"
Although not forever
Thank you so for being mine
Half of April
Most of May
There were morning walks along silver shores
Firesides when April skies turned grey
And I hope you know
That you have never been loved more
Half of April
Most of May
But somehow when you left my side
My soul seemed so unsatisfied
I missed the walks
The talks, the dreams, and such
And when writers write a tune
They never fail to throw in June
But adding June--
I guess
I'm asking too much
If the summer goes, and winter seems bare
With no love to warm a grey November day
Would you think about the lover
Who you shared
Half of April
Most of May?
Half of April
Most of May